I don't think I've ever drunk champagne before breakfast before. With breakfast on several occasions, but never before...

[to Holly Golightly] You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing", and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

[to Holly Golightly] I don't think I've ever drunk champagne before breakfast before. With breakfast on several occasions, but never before, before.

[to Holly Golightly] And I always heard people in New York never get to know their neighbors.

I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is but I know what it is like.

Holly: He's all right! Aren't you, cat? Poor cat! Poor slob! Poor slob without a name! The way I see it I haven't got the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other. We just took up one day by the river. I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is but I know what it is like. It's like Tiffany's.

Paul: Tiffany's? You mean the jewelry store.

Holly: That's right. I'm just crazy about Tiffany's!

Holly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Paul: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?

Holly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

Paul: Sure.

Holly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it. Nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

Holly: Thursday! It can't be! It's too gruesome!

Paul: What's so gruesome about Thursday?

Holly: Nothing, except I can never remember when it's coming up.

Holly: How do I look?

Paul: Very good. I must say, I'm amazed.

Holly: What do you do, anyway?

Paul: I'm a writer, I guess.

Holly: You guess? Don't you know?

Paul: Okay, positive statement. Ringing affirmative. I'm a writer.

Paul: They're not the kind of stories you can really tell.

Holly: Too dirty?

Paul: Yeah, I suppose they're dirty, too, but only incidentally. Mainly they're angry, sensitive, intensely felt, and that dirtiest of all dirty words - promising. Or so said The Times Book Review, October 1, 1956.

O. J. Berman: Hey, Fred-baby!

Paul: No, no. It's Paul-baby.

Doc Golightly: I love you, Lula Mae.

Holly Golightly: I know you do, and that's just the trouble. It's the mistake you always made, Doc, trying to love a wild thing. You were always lugging home wild things. Once it was a hawk with a broken wing . . . and another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg. Remember?

Doc: Lula Mae there's something . . .

Holly: You musn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky.